Thrice the Lover
by Jessica Pendragon
Summary: Mamoru had a bit of a problem.


_How deep is your love?  
How deep is the ocean?  
How deep is the sea?  
and how deep is my love?_

How blind can I be?  
so when can I see you?  
Will it ever be?  
and how deep is my love?

It's miles away.

-Goldfinger

Mamoru had a bit of a problem.

It was not the fact that he was an orphan funding his own way through school.

It was not the fact that he could one strange day suddenly turn into some masquerading vigilante in a tuxedo and top hat.

It was not the fact that he kept dreaming about some princess and a crystal of valued importance, and dark circles were beginning to form under his eyes because of it.

It was not the fact that some skinny girl parading around as a superhero was always getting in trouble, and he was the only one around to save her.

It was not the fact that another skinny girl at the arcade bugged him to death at every possible moment, and made his ears ring all night.

And it was not the fact that there was a pile of stolen jewelry on his coffee table, sparkling in the night lights of Tokyo, that he felt compelled to borrow in his search for this mysterious crystal.

No...all those things were mere anthills to the mountain they had inevitably led him to. He had lost some sleep from becoming Tuxedo Kamen, a masked debutante in a world of Technicolor, but he had lost his mind over his latest problem.

Chiba Mamoru was in love.

It wasn't so bad in and of itself. It was a little out of character for the quiet and brooding upperclassmen, but stranger things have happened in the world; he's seen them recently, and far too up close. His closest friend would probably shout and swoon at the thought, but Motoki would eventually get up and over it.

The problem was, of course, that sometimes love appears all at once just to spite the hopeless, and not in a nice succession where it would be much easier to make a decision. So here it was; Chiba Mamoru was in love with three women at the same time, and absolutely miserable.

First there was the woman who quite literally haunted his very dreams. He felt a very real connection to her however, and her heart felt plea pulled on his own. She was refined, serene and had a grace about her through the mist of his mind, even though he could not see her features. The elegant diamond ring he had picked off the shimmering table reminded him of her- brilliant and timeless. And she needed him, only him. It had been a long time since Mamoru had ever felt needed for something. He wanted to help her, he felt compelled to by her soft and beautiful voice. There was a sadness in her shaded eyes that he could relate to, a desire to find something that was lost, something they both needed to feel whole again.

Then there was Sailor Moon, a mysterious girl that needed saved more than she protected Tokyo sometimes. As Mamoru twirled the ring around his pinky finger, it reminded him of Sailor Moon. She was everywhere, spinning around recklessly and wildly. She was not your average super hero. But she was brave, and even though she was scared at every battle so far, she came back time and time again. She was bold and powerful, but most importantly she was selfless. She risked her life everyday for people she didn't know. It didn't matter if she tripped or faltered, that mere fact alone made her dazzling and unique. And Mamoru loved the way she looked up to him, even if he probably didn't deserve it. In a way they were the same, fighting an evil for some purpose they couldn't understand, fighting for answers and truth.

As Mamoru thought of the last woman in his turbulent life, he closed the ring tightly in his fingers, its silver band cooling his palm. Lastly, there was Tsukino Usagi. He could hear her boisterous voice in his head now and unconsciously winced at its pitch. Usagi was dynamic and disastrous, but somehow Mamoru never heard her screeching down the sidewalks before they collided in flailing limbs and scraped knees. She was far too loud and stubborn, but she was also sweet and kind...with anyone besides him. She loved her friends and would do anything for them, and Mamoru couldn't deny he instigated most of her malice to begin with. And she was the most real thing in his life, and everyday he waited for her to brighten his clouded existence. Yet he was very certain of one thing: Tsukino Usagi and Chiba Mamoru were nothing alike.

So that was that. Mamoru loved three totally, completely different women, and had no idea which one was right for him.

He rose from the couch, grabbing the beige cloth bag at his side. Carefully he scooped the stolen jewelry back into it, satisfied that none of the pieces were the one he and his princess, and half of Tokyo, was searching for. He would return them to the store he visited earlier, for he had no need of ten pounds of jewelry. With the table clean once more, he cinched the bag and threw it over his shoulder.

Yet there was one piece left. He opened his left hand, finding the ring still there. It wasn't anything spectacular, or horribly expensive. It was a pink diamond cut into the shape of a heart with a few smaller white diamonds around it. The ring had caught his attention when he first saw it, and he was hoping it was what he was looking for. But it was just another trinket; something else must have drawn it to him. As tonight's thought of dream women, superheroes and sugar-veined rivals filled his mind, Mamoru knew why it had stuck out so much. He could picture himself giving this ring to the woman he loved one day. The simplicity, but individual character of it would fit her so well, and the dazzling rose color and shape would look beautiful on her long, soft fingers. She would be as bright as the diamond in sunlight, and as strong as the circular band it rested on. She would have to be unique for this kind of cut, fun and carefree. There was only one woman he could see wearing this some day. They were a perfect match.

A small smile came across his pale lips, but the real victory of the moment lay in his eyes as they sparkled with revelation and reverie. As Mamoru crossed the carpeted floor of his apartment, he pocketed the ring in one smooth motion before reaching for the door. The ring had made up his mind; he knew the woman he would choose. It is said that a ring is born for one woman's hand, like one wedding dress is made for one bride, but Mamoru never believed it until now. It was so obvious to him, he almost laughed as he shut his apartment door. The answer was as clear as crystal.


End file.
